


Titanic

by meowstelle



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-02
Updated: 2015-08-02
Packaged: 2018-04-12 14:30:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4482872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meowstelle/pseuds/meowstelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vocabulary aside, Itachi took one look at Naruto and Sasuke, and felt the incredible urge to smash their faces together in an attempt to generate the eternal love they were destined to share.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Titanic

**Author's Note:**

> Taking a break from the sex and angst and writing another lighthearted one. Dedicated to my sister, for being a troll and my 100th follower. 
> 
> Warnings: T, NaruSasu, Itachi being…Itachi. AU.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Naruto, but I do own this silly headcanon.

TITANIC

Itachi first shipped them when Kushina-san brought Naruto over for their first play date. Of course, he had no idea at the time that the extreme excitement in his chest was called ‘shipping,’ but come college, when his artsy friend would introduce him to the strange sub-universe of the internet, he’d learn better. Vocabulary aside, Itachi took one look at Naruto and Sasuke, and felt the incredible urge to smash their faces together in an attempt to generate the eternal love they were destined to share. 

Reality, however, was cruel to him. Sasuke treated Naruto with utter disdain; his heritage and natural smarts somehow granted him the right to be the biggest – and admittedly cutest – ass a three-year-old could be. He refused to share Roary-chan and expertly timed his tantrums and finger-pointing so Naruto would suffer the brunt of the blame. As a hot-blooded Uzumaki, Naruto wouldn’t surrender so easily. He was bigger and physically stronger than Sasuke, and thus responded to his challenges with a rough tackle and an earsplitting screech that resonated in utmost frequencies. 

Itachi, who contentedly babysat the two, interpreted their tussles as a childish show of fondness. When Kushina-san fretfully apologized for the inflicted bruises coloring Sasuke, it was he who convinced his parents that it was all in good nature. “Sasuke enjoys Naruto-kun’s company, and he fights back. They’ll grow up tough together.” Fugaku, always apprehensive about his youngest son’s outwardly fragile physique and womanish face, was consequently more than happy to allow Naruto’s visitations to continue unaltered.

It became quickly apparent that Itachi was the only one who supposed the two carried an ounce of affection for each other. Sasuke complained to him one afternoon, “He’s stupid! He keeps trying to steal Roary-chan. I only want to play with you, nii-san.” 

With a sigh, Itachi knew that he’d have to resort to bribery to maintain the relationship. In this case, he ends justify the means, he decided. “I won’t play with you if you don’t play with Naruto-kun, okay?” Sasuke pouted but agreed to the compromise, because nothing was worse than not playing with his nii-san.

Naruto, too, whined about Sasuke’s haughtiness. Itachi heard him exclaim to his mother: “Why’s he always so mean? I tried to be nice, and I didn’t want to hit him, but he started it! Can’t I play with Kiba and Shikamaru and Chouji and Shino? They’re more fun.” Unlike Sasuke, Naruto had a wide expanse of childhood friends to choose from. No, this wouldn’t do – Naruto and Sasuke belonged to each other, and that was that.

Upon further inspection at a daycare, Itachi was glad to see that none of Naruto’s other potty trained acquaintances quite fit the bill. All Shikamaru did was sleep and stare out the window; he showed occasional signs of intelligence as he breezed through checkers against the supervisors, but otherwise, he was nothing substantial. Certainly not a threat to Sasuke. Chouji was friendly, kindhearted, but normal and easy to overlook, and Naruto treated him as such. Certainly not a threat to Sasuke. Kiba resembled Naruto too much for a close relationship to develop; they were both loud, tough, dirty, and rough. Kiba could not provide the balance that Naruto required in a soul mate. Certainly not a threat to Sasuke. Shino was a strange, shy fellow, and was avoided like a giant bug by Naruto. Certainly not a threat to Sasuke.

“Shadowing your brother again?” Shisui tugged at Itachi’s ponytail. Despite their two-year age gap, Shisui and Itachi shared the same advanced classes. During recess, Itachi would slink away to observe the daycare program that took place in the same school building. Shisui, his cousin and best friend, tagged along occasionally, but was understandably peeved by his dedication to matchmaking. “Leave them be, come on.”

Reluctantly, Itachi shot the dutifully colorful nursery scene a fleeting glance before departing. He had more important, fifth-grade stuff to do according to his cousin. “Shisui,” he began as they walked to rejoin their class, “Do you think Sasuke’s gay?”

Shisui made a desperate sound in the back of his throat that resembled a dying bird. “What the hell, Itachi, I don’t know. He’s three.”

His strange fascination with Naruto and Sasuke rapidly became a taboo subject even with Shisui, with whom he could normally talk to about anything. It seemed Itachi’s only comrades were his mother and Kushina-san, who enjoyed a multitude of late afternoons conversing around a variety of tea specimens. Still, even they failed to perceive the romantic possibilities of this couple, and only saw the socially acceptable, platonic, boyish friendship that was struggling to bloom. “If Miko and I can be close friends,” assured Kushina when Itachi related his concerns with Sasuke’s social life, “and Fugaku-san and Minato can be close friends, there’s no reason Sasuke-chan and Naruto can’t be.” 

“I was hoping Naruto-kun would help him,” Mikoto admitted in response, “Sasuke’s close with Itachi, but not with any other kids his age.” 

It pained Itachi to hear that; he, himself, obstruct Sasuke’s natural growth. 

Affectionately, Kushina wiped the scowl from his face with a tug of his cheek. “That’s only because Sasuke admires you too much. None of the other kids have earned his respect like you have.” Releasing his skin, elastic with youth, she then patted his unamused head overenthusiastically. “They’ve got a big boy to live up to.” 

Looking at the blonde boy napping serenely on the couch, mouth open and soft hand on his exposed tummy, Itachi had a feeling that if he were to be surpassed by anyone in his brother’s eyes, he would want it to be by Naruto.

 

His shipping feelings emerged in arbitrary bursts throughout his life, and always seemed to revitalize him when the going got tough. There was something strange in the magic that was his brother and Naruto; it animated him, willed his moving forward. In his childhood rendition of his dying will, he bequeathed much of his possessions to Shisui and Sasuke, but specifically bestowed the heart of Sasuke – he fancied he owned it as long as the boy was too naïve to have romantic interests – to Naruto. The metaphorical period at the end of that document was all too satisfying. But for now, he contented himself with waiting at the sidelines, silently arranging their future marriage, but otherwise leaving the details to them. At times of crisis, however, he was more than glad to step in, wearing his suit of serious business, to mediate whatever mortal argument separated the two.

One such moment occurred in Itachi’s eighth grade years – while Naruto and Sasuke still toddled about on carpeted floor down in kindergarten. There had been an unfortunate incident, some unsavory words, and a runaway blonde boy. Luckily, Iruka-sensei was aware of Itachi’s influence on Sasuke, and summoned him to help diffuse the situation – a stubborn, blubbering five year old.

“Sasuke, what happened?” Itachi kneeled down to his brother’s level, patting down his spiky hair. 

Rubbing his face raw red with the back of his hand, Sasuke spluttered, “N-Naruto called me a – a—”

Iruka-sensei, in the background, waved frantically, attempting in vain to get Itachi to silence the boy.

“—a racist f-fuckface!”

Even self-disciplined Itachi had to clamp a hand over his mouth to contain his laughing. Stifling his reaction behind an authoritative cough, he managed, “Did you provoke Naruto before then?” He hated to even lean on a side opposing his adorable brother, but when it came to touchy five-year-old situations, proper justice must be served, else the children will continue to whine. That much he learned from his own father. 

Knowing that proud Sasuke wouldn’t ‘fess up, Iruka-sensei proffered, “Sasuke made fun of Naruto’s blonde hair and blue eyes. He said he didn’t want to play with him because he wasn’t an Uchiha.”

With a stomp of his sneaker, which lit up electronically in protest, Sasuke retorted, “Did not!”

“Don’t argue with your sensei,” Itachi corrected him sternly, wiping the tears off his chubby face with his thumb, “Or else I’ll tell tou-san.” Sasuke pouted, but agreed to the compromise, because nothing was worse than being punished by tou-san. Assuming a more serious tone, he asked, “And Naruto ran off after saying that?” Iruka-sensei nodded in confirmation, and was regrettably resigned to telephoning a red-hot mother that her son had screamed some inappropriate words and promptly absconded from the school.

While Iruka-sensei handled that hazardous affair, Itachi addressed his own raven-haired problem. “What’s this about you not wanting to play with someone because of the way they look, or what family they come from?” his voice softened naturally in the sole presence of his brother. He almost hated Naruto for making Sasuke cry – almost.

“I don’t like him! Or anyone else in the class,” he replied in immature desperation, clutching at Itachi’s dampened shirt, “I only want to hang out with tou-san and kaa-san and nii-san and only sometimes Shisui-nii-san.” Somewhere in the other end of the building, Shisui sneezed in disdain. “He’s not like us. He’s loud and stupid and ob – ob – nock…”

Raising an eyebrow, Itachi offered, “Obnoxious.”

“Ob-knock-chus.” 

“Spell it.”

Scrunching his eyebrows, Sasuke’s eyes reached up to the ceilings of his young mind and began: “O – b – n – o – uh…”

Encouragingly, he proffered, “…x.” 

“…yeah, that one…i – o – u – s.” 

Itachi congratulated him warmly and ruffled his already ruffled hair; Sasuke giggled proudly, eyes now distracted and dry. Taking advantage of the temporary diversion, he said, “I didn’t make fun of you when you didn’t get that ‘x,’ did I?” Guiltily, the boy shook his head. “Naruto might be a little slow, but it makes him feel bad when you make fun of him like that. And how about if I made fun of you for having a duck’s butt for hair?” 

Sasuke’s face flushed bright red. He was always self-conscious about his hair. “I get it, nii-san. I’m sorry.”

Finding that his work was near completion, Itachi stood up, though not breaking vital contact with Sasuke. “I’ll leave you with this penance: you have to apologize to Naruto and his parents, and then play with Naruto every Wednesday, at the very least. Okay?”

“What’s ‘penance’ mean?”

“Context clues, Sasuke.”

Leaving him, sniffling, with that food for thought, Itachi took his time returning to his eighth grade classroom, with a content fuzziness warming his stomach. Unfailingly, for the next fifteen years, Sasuke would diligently continue that penance.

 

Years passed, and Naruto and Sasuke were finally beginning to show true signs of camaraderie. Itachi, now in college, had very little time to focus on arranging their marriage, much less a blind date. He did, however, hear lovely anecdotes of their day-to-day life, like how they dramatically acted out scenes from The Outsiders for much-needed extra credit (neither had read the novel, you see). Itachi couldn’t suppress his smile upon imagining his little brother, whispering, “Stay gold, Ponyboy,” to the already golden-crisp Naruto. Daydreams like that energized him more than the pounds of coffee he swigged to trudge through his daily schedule.

Luckily for him, Itachi had a roommate who happily related to his feelings, now defined as ‘shipping.’ Deidara, as previously mentioned, was an internet junkie, ran a dynamic blog, and was what was called ‘Tumblr famous.’ He majored in art, fan-boyed his way through countless anime television shows, and sold commissions of his sculptures to other like-minded folks across the nation. They hardly got along, save their mutual shipping feelings; upon his brandishing a photo of Naruto and Sasuke, Deidara immediately began shipping them, as well. “We’re partners-in-crime in making our OTP canon, yeah!” he had exclaimed. To be honest, Itachi wasn’t certain if Deidara fully comprehended the gravity of the situation.

Compared to the myriad of kindergarten fiascos, the situation was improving. Naruto and Sasuke had become a special breed of rivals-and-friends, and they also had a companion (who Itachi disapproved of, because she harbored a dangerous crush on his brother), Sakura. Even though Sasuke sent him texts expressing his extreme antipathy towards the Uzumaki, he still kept hanging out with him. Deidara generously described this behavior as ‘tsundere,’ and explained that there was nothing to worry about.

Nevertheless, as these things often happen, things tumbled downhill like Jack and Jill. Naruto and Sasuke got into a fight – for some reason or another. Itachi never explicitly discovered what, exactly, instigated this extreme hatred. Instead, he noticed that his brother associated himself with new cohorts: Suigetsu, Karin, Juugo, and four-eyed upperclassman Kabuto. This new gang, though not necessarily a bad clique, left a sour taste in Itachi’s sweet-toothed mouth. When he returned home for the summer, he was determined to resolve whatever issue had arisen and set his ship out of the iceberg’s way.

“Hey, Sasuke, is this your older brother?” Suigetsu was somehow related to Kisame, another new college friend of Itachi’s, and constantly flourished a familiar devilish grin. “You don’t look too much alike, I guess. Nice to meet you.” For courtesy’s sake, Itachi mutely shook his extended hand, and responded with a nod. Instead he beckoned Sasuke forward, to converse in private.

The boy had grown to look something of a purposeful rebel. His unruly hair added to the effect of an untucked school shirt, pocketed hands, a lazy inclination of the head, and a droll smirk. “What is it?” he asked, not rudely, but in such a manner that Itachi, as his respectable senior, had to be slightly irritated. 

Excusing his tone, Itachi delved into his point: “What’s this fight with Naruto about?”

“It’s no big deal,” Sasuke said, tilting his chin up in evident vexation. “Friends change, that’s all.”

“Not you and Naruto.”

Sasuke looked at his brother carefully, almost testily. Since when did this boy get such an attitude? Itachi grappled with the concept that he was now thirteen, a teenager, hormonal and inevitably bossy. “Especially me and Naruto,” Sasuke responded with underlying heat. “What are you going to do? Take Naruto’s side again?” Danger rang in his deepened voice. The boy was growing up.

In defeat, he raised his hands defensively and shook his head. “Just wondering.”

Watching his brother walk away, hands planted in his pockets, side-by-side with a slurping Suigetsu, Itachi recognized this moment as a metaphor for jump of faith. Sometimes, he decided, you just have to let things sail its course.

 

Three years will pass before Itachi discovers the source of his OTP’s discord. In his later years, after Naruto and Sasuke were happily engaged and wed, Itachi would acknowledge this period as something of a ‘Dark Age,’ when other un-shipping-related things absorb one’s life, thus distracting one from what is truly important – love (and he means that in all seriousness). When Itachi graduated college and returned home to go about Fugaku’s work, he was reminded of his duty as both a shipper and a devoted older brother. The dissatisfied scowl on his brother’s pale face was enough to boil a bubbling feeling of nostalgia and yearning in his chest; Sasuke deserved better, Itachi thought, than to be alone.

Sasuke, on the other hand, begged to differ. He was quite content with his new posse, and in high school, Orochimaru – a teacher that always freaked Itachi out, quite honestly – became uncomfortably smitten with him. Sasuke moved and grooved easily with them, for they suited his organized outlaw dark-side style, and avoided Naruto’s sunshine beams wherever they may be. A silent rivalry bred between Naruto’s group and Sasuke’s group; as an older man, Itachi tsked at the triviality of it all, and wondered why everyone couldn’t just be friends and attend their future wedding in peace. It would be a wonderful win-win situation, after all.

Forced to accept this unfortunate turn of events, Itachi began strategizing on his free days, while pretending to listen to Kisame and Deidara’s blubbering about. With his observant eye, he noticed that Naruto was much more open-handed in matters concerning Sasuke, prepared to extend unasked for forgiveness and absolution. Naruto liked to literally extend his hand to Sasuke should he knock him down during a physical education soccer game (his hand was characteristically slapped away), and he always shot a longing, fleeting look at him should their shoulders brush or their eyes meet. All this information, relayed by Itachi’s old friend Kakashi, who supervised his students over his pre-“50 Shades of Grey” porno books, was enough food for Itachi’s gut to have a feeling.

Itachi visited the Uzumaki-Namikaze residence under the pretense of business. He did talk statistics with Minato-san, and he did schmoose with Kushina-san, but his goal was to extract information from Naruto-kun. He knew enough about Naruto’s daily schedule that the boy didn’t loiter away from home for too long on Thursday nights because his favorite television show, some strange anime about a bright orange ninja, came on then. Still, Naruto was running late, and the possibility of his opportunity’s ruination bothered his perfectionist bits. It wouldn’t be too embarrassing to call upon them again, would it? Itachi pondered just as his objective walked through the door in a flurry.

“The show! The show! The show!” he repeated a half a dozen more times whilst flinging his backpack across the room for the simple sake of putting it down somewhere. 

Minato, the calm one in the house, said, “Hey, hey, greet our guest first, Naruto.”

Naruto’s neck craned for the mentioned guest; Itachi nonchalantly gave his hand a wave. “It’s been a long time, Naruto-kun. You’ve grown tall.” Tall enough to be a good match for Sasuke, continued his trailing afterthought.

“Itachi!” Naruto said, dropping the honorific as he always did when he was young. He initially intended to give a bro-hug, but instead he settled for an awkward handshake. “Haven’t seen you in ages. Are you out of college already? That young? You smart-ass.” He flashed a smile, one that looked shockingly handsome, Itachi had to admit. In every movement from then on, from the manner in which he squinted his eyes when he said something deliberately stupid, from the way he slurped up his ramen, from how wide in centimeters his blue eyes stretched, Itachi measured him in the meter of his worthiness for Sasuke and approved of him so much that he felt his heart bursting in premature ecstasy for this match. 

Still, reality beckoned for the serious business to be taken care of first. During one of the show’s commercial breaks – Itachi never viewed it before and was utterly confused by the plethora of characters – he managed to put into conversation his younger brother. Naruto reacted appropriately, his downcast eyes betraying guilt. “What happened between you two?” Itachi asked, showing true concern and interest in the situation.

Abruptly looking Itachi square in the eye, Naruto said, “I can’t tell you. I promised Sasuke I wouldn’t tell anyone.”

“Promised? You two aren’t even on speaking terms and there is a promise involved?”

“You of all people should know,” exclaimed Naruto, mimicking Itachi’s forehead poking habit with his hands and fingers. “A promise is a promise.”

By the measure of the dignity and determination in Naruto’s voice alone, Itachi decided that if he could have one, single say in Sasuke’s life, it would be that he would marry this boy. But still, a promise is a promise, and he couldn’t bear to be the cause of a broken one between the two. The information will, from Naruto at least, remain a secret. 

He couldn’t simply give up, though. There must be another way.

Their dispute’s cause – which happened to be, to Itachi’s surprise, a well-known secret – was, by an act of serendipity and societal labels, at last heard through the grand grapevine. Now the truth to the grapevine’s exact knots are unknown, but Itachi guessed that Karin knew, who then told Suigetsu, who then told Mangetsu, who then told Kisame, who then spilt the beans across lunch with friends. 

“The Uchiha,” Kisame said, tuna sandwich raised, “aren’t going to get a new heir with you two.”

Nevermind that it was an accusation made towards Itachi’s sexuality. No, his cushiony ego took that blow quite easily. Itachi’s concern turned itself towards Kisame’s referencing Sasuke’s sexuality, tacitly agreed upon to be a little more crooked than expected. The tuna feasting, tall man seemed to realize his slip of the tongue a tad too late. After lunch, he found himself wishing to melt into the brick wall, guilty hands up, with a man at least twenty centimeters shorter than him interrogating him with eyes that a child would color red. 

Itachi demanded, “What do you know about Sasuke and Naruto-kun?”

Like many things, once something was out, it was out. “I-I don’t know the details,” he insisted, “but one of them confessed their love for another, and someone was, well, embarrassed about the queerness of it all and—”

That was all Itachi needed to hear. Walking away from Kisame, who relaxed as though he were released from a choking grip, his mind raced as to how to deal with this newly awakened predicament. It was simple enough to surmise that Fugaku had infected Sasuke with homophobic ideals and pressure to procreate. The man looked through Itachi’s own yearbooks with avid interest, pointing out eligible bachelorettes that suited his taste and presumably suited Itachi’s tastes as well. Unfortunately for Fugaku, Kisame was right – personally, Itachi identified as asexual, as every ounce of love in his heart expressed itself platonically. Deidara called it a “damn waste,” whatever he meant by that. 

Luck, karma, or the shipping gods led him to the newspapers, which more than happily did their job and presented him with a chance to remove the concept of the homophobic leech from his family once and for all.

Itachi couldn’t help but recall that strange movie, ‘Donnie Darko,’ as he announced nonchalantly at the dinner table, “I’m voting yes.”

Next month, Konoha would vote for or against same-sex marriage. 

Fugaku’s jaw didn’t tighten; his cheek expanded underneath his tongue pushing rice from underneath his lip into his mouth, however. Just as candidly, he said, “Whatever you want, son, but when the population in Konoha suddenly decreases because everyone’s so obsessed with this new ‘gay’ fad, don’t blame me.”

“Dad, it’s not a fad,” Sasuke spoke up, in English (for the sake of rhyming and to piss his father off, who disliked the use of English at the table). Mikoto, usually silent on the other side of the table, spluttered and giggled as the boy smiled lovingly at his mother, one of the few people he displayed true affection to nowadays. He always had a knack for the language.

Itachi, trying his hardest to suppress a grin, at both his younger brother’s strange charm and his own success, continued. “Otou-san, I can assure you, that won’t happen. Folks around here know better than that.” His speaking up against Fugaku would, theoretically, give Sasuke the confidence to act accordingly. “They haven’t done you any harm.”

Fugaku harrumphed, muttered that it didn’t sit right with him, and chewed furiously on his baby corn. “It’s not normal,” he argued after a lull in conversation.

“Normal and Konoha don’t exactly walk hand-in-hand,” Itachi pointed out, eyebrows raised. In the corner of his eye, Sasuke smirked into his meal.

A month later, when the new law passed authorizing same-sex marriage in the city of Konoha, Sasuke texted Naruto back for the first time. Itachi knew because one month later, he saw Naruto loitering around the house, as casual as a toddler on a play date. The boy noted Itachi’s surprise with an overly cheerful grin and a thumbs-up. “The house hasn’t changed much,” was all he said, almost as if he owned it. 

Sasuke emerged from the other room, two sodas occupying his hands and two DVDs clenched in his teeth. “The Avengers or The Dark Knight Rises?” he asked once his mouth was cleared without so much of a nod to Itachi, almost as if he were embarrassed.

All Itachi had to do was smile, bravely ruffle his mortified younger brother’s hair (in the corner of his keen eye, Naruto’s lips spread into teeth), and leave the two to their own, undoubtedly very happy, devices.

 

Itachi estimated at least a year or two for it to happen, but it only took four months; he underestimated how fast teenager’s gears spin, how bothered they become, and in turn how dogged they are. It being his decision to come out of the closet to Fugaku. 

Now Itachi was never one for a gay-dar, nor was he one to force someone out of the closet. Sasuke had incepted the idea all on his own, and Itachi showed neither inclination nor worry towards Sasuke’s sexuality to no one but Shisui, who worried furiously about his obsession with his younger brother’s love life. “You’re controlling him; let him like who he likes,” Shisui insisted.

“What have I done?” Itachi argued back, trying not to get too heated, as he always did when talking about his one true pairing. Shisui opened and closed his mouth a few times, but found no substance behind the air he breathed during those intervals. It was true. Itachi had done virtually nothing but his duty as a citizen by voting yes on a law. Sasuke and Naruto chose each other; Itachi simply changed the furniture a bit. 

But here it was, whether Itachi planned it or not. This was the moment of truth, the wild card that affected everything. Strife, Itachi thought, might bring the two closer. Opposition might strain matters even further. Acceptance – and then it’s all in his little brother’s hands. He wasn’t certain whether he was prepared to let that go, to trust Sasuke and Naruto as adults to make their own romantic decisions unsupervised. 

Itachi, whilst musing, constantly felt like an old, overprotective mother. Vaguely, his thoughts wandered to Mikoto. Sasuke, in the meantime, put his fork and foot down and announced at the dinner table as dumbly as possible, “Dad, I’m gay.” 

Fugaku looked up. “Come again?” Itachi could sense that it was a challenge, not a mere lapse in hearing.

Determination faltering ever so slightly, Sasuke tried again: “I’m going out with Naruto.”

“You are, are you,” he said, nigh bemused. Mikoto’s back straightened as if her husband just ran his fingers against a chalkboard. Wary Itachi cleared his throat, prepared to interrupt and defend his brother if needed. Fugaku’s reaction was far from positive – it was vague, and he was never normally vague.

“Yeah,” Sasuke said stupidly before stabbing at his salad with all the pent up hatred in his body. 

Conversation over. Itachi blinked to assure himself that yes, this is reality. Sasuke jumped out of the closet, arms waving like windmills, and was surprisingly taken for a windmill. No attacking, no mistaken judgments, nothing. Worried, he chewed on his own food, stealing glances at Fugaku and Sasuke to ascertain their current emotional state. Sasuke was obvious; Fugaku, still indistinct.

Suddenly: “Itachi, I found a nice girl for you.” With special emphasis on you. “She’s a fine businesswoman from overseas, studied entrepreneurship at Babson in Boston. Our company has been attacked too damn much for being racially closed-minded. I’ve arranged a date for you two to meet.”

Oh. So this was the fall he had to take, this was the sacrifice to save the Titanic. It wasn’t that he believed he could love romantically – no, he exhausted all romanticism on books and art and his little brother’s relationships – it was that he would be utterly stripped of the freedom entirely. For the sake of Sasuke and Naruto’s happiness, could he? Beside him, his younger brother ate his food slowly, eyes on him. Did he know the importance of this very moment? 

Itachi hoped Sasuke didn’t as he said, “Yes, tou-san.”

 

“,,,and that’s how it happened.”

“…Shit, man.”  
Years later, perhaps four or five, when Itachi was to meet up with Nagato at a local Konoha bar, Naruto turned up, tagging along with his relative for a few drinks. For half a year, the boy – now a man – had proudly brandished the engagement band on his finger. Sasuke and Naruto were due to be married in a week. Itachi, proud as ever, watched over them as they progressed from an arguing new couple, to an arguing relaxed couple, to an arguing and entirely in love couple. Upon learning that Itachi was in full support of the relationship, Sasuke approached him about many of the issues that had arisen – his hungry jealousy, his impatience, Naruto’s degree of stupidity, college, separation, homophobics…just about everything but the sex, which was one element of Itachi’s ship that he disliked exploring. They were far from perfect, yet perfect in every way; they embodied all the love Itachi sometimes wished he could have. 

“Don’t tell Sasuke, okay?”

“I’m not a fan of keeping secrets from him, you know, but just this once, cause it’s you. If he finds out, I’ll tell him you forced me to.”

“…Take care of him.”

“I’ve got big shoes to fill, Itachi. But you know I will.”

Itachi leaned forward to mask his smile behind his hair. When Sasuke and Naruto say their vows, when Sasuke chooses a new person to be his number one, Itachi wondered if he’d cry.


End file.
